


redshifted (a doomtony college au drabble)

by shelkenz



Series: The DoomTony Chronicles [2]
Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff and Angst, M/M, doomtony, this will hurt you and i am not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shelkenz/pseuds/shelkenz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, this shows how far these two have progressed in their relationship. Victor comes across a drunken Tony and walks him back to his dorm. There are a lot of things going on under the surface for both characters. It ends on a sweet, happy note that will rip your heart out. You're welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	redshifted (a doomtony college au drabble)

**“** [**Event horizon of a black hole**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Event_horizon#Event_horizon_of_a_black_hole) \- In layman's terms, it is defined as "the point of no return", i.e., the point at which the gravitational pull becomes so great as to make escape impossible. [...] Likewise, any object approaching the horizon from the observer's side appears to slow down and never quite pass through the horizon [...] its image becoming more and more [**redshifted**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Event_horizon) as time elapses. **”**

 

* * *

 

 

  Victor stood silently in front of the wooden bench, staring down at Tony's sprawled figure in withering disapproval _**{** frivolity and over-indulgence were an expected part of college life regardless of his opinion of them, but in Stark's case... it was... **troubling** **}** _ both hands curled tightly in their respective pockets, palms itching for something physical, something absolute to aim his annoyance at.  
  
_**{** Point one: He'd staggered out here alone; his friends hadn't simply left him like this. Point two: While these parties and binges never interfered with his work, they **did** suggest a habitual need for escape.  Point three: Victor knew exactly what Tony sought escape from. **}**_  
 _**{** Problem identified. **}**_  
 _**{**  Solution unavailable. **}**_  
 _**{** Stark was that most rare and irresistible of things in Victor's life--a broken machine beyond his skill to repair. **}**_  
  
  His face was slack, hints of cooling sweat on the smooth skin of his forehead, and simply to give his hands some useful function, Doom reached out to brush the hair back from it, cataloging the stir of _**{** ~~something more than~~ **}**_ pity between stomach and breastbone and noting, whimsically, that Anthony looked very much like a choirboy when he slept. Slightly too innocent to question. The contrast between them was breathtaking, sometimes.  
  
  "Get up, you drunken idiot." Whatever he felt, his voice barely echoed it. Mostly, it sounded like he wanted to kick him just a bit. _**{** To be fair, the thought **had** crossed his mind. **}**_

   Stark jerked awake, eyes and head united in an unsteady effort to gain visual focus. Once those familiar _**{** ~~brooding~~ , ~~sensual~~ , ~~too damned attractive by half~~ **}**_ features coalesced into a single image, his face lit with a too-easy grin. "Hey! Vic! You finally crawl out from under your rock to mingle with the riffraff?" There was, evidently, no point of intoxication at which Tony ever stopped being a smug pain in his ass, Doom decided. That fact should not have pleased him.

  
  Getting to his feet without help seemed to be a struggle for Tony--not that it stopped him, or his mouth. "You missed a hell of a party--" Standing was definitely a challenge; Victor watched him sway, torn between instinct and irritation. "There was this girl, and--"  
  
_**{** And **that** was **definitely** a pang of jealousy; fierce and sharp and wholly unreasonable. **}**_  
  
  The scowl of disapproval _**{** ~~suspicion~~ **}**_ spoke volumes, though Victor remained as silent and reserved as ever. Making him jealous had likely been the whole point, he knew--punishment for being too busy for too long.  
  
   "Some day, your face is gonna stick like that." Tony waved a finger at him chidingly, grinning even wider at the reaction.  
   
 "I should leave you here," Doom pronounced crisply, the hardness of tone almost negating the soft native slur of his accent. "Idiot." But there was no spite in the last word _**{** only a hint of resignation **}**_ as his arm slid around Stark's back, pulling him in to lean against one shoulder.  
  
   "Your mouth says ' _idiot_ ,' but your arms say ' _do me_.'" It was tempting to drag his weaving classmate along; it couldn't possibly have been less dignified, at least.  
  
   "And you, Stark, are even more embarrassing tonight than usual--which is an accomplishment. I'm taking you back to your room."  
  
   Anthony looked just a touch too pleased with himself. "Are you using my last name because you're pissed off, or just because we're in public?"  
  
   This was a level of baiting even Victor hadn't expected--not on this topic. Not _tonight_. But the insight still made one corner of his mouth twitch back in amusement. " _Both_."  
  
   The dorm's grey facade was in view now, most of the windows dark except for those few poor souls who were either behind on projects or kept awake by noisome roommates. Wide double doors stood propped open subtly with half a brick. **{** There were far better ways of doing that; for a school with so many gifted minds, it was astonishing how rarely they seemed to make use of them. Doom felt a familiar pang of irritation. **}**  
  
  "Hey--that reminds me, is there some kind of... I don't know, national law maybe in Latveria against using nicknames? What is it, a religous objection? Or... do you just have a personal stick up your ass about it?"  
  
_**{** The crude barb was unsurprising; his refusal to discuss how he insisted they behave in public had almost certainly struck a nerve. **}**_  
  
   They had reached the doorway, and paused inside it.  
  
   " _Anthony_." Not so much a name as a growl of warning. "This act of charity on my part does not--" Suddenly they were too close. The makeshift doorstop caught under his companion's unsteady foot, or-- **{** _warm hands gripped the fabric of his t-shirt as that familiar form insinuated itself against his, blue eyes surprisingly focused; playfully half-shielded by dark lashes **}** \--_perhaps not.  
  
   "Love it when you say my name like that." Smirking at his own complete reversal of opinion Tony pulled him closer.  
  
   "I know." Victor's smirk was as innate as the teasing haughtiness in his tone, and oh, he _did_ know by now--there was a dark little piece of his lover's psyche that could be twisted like a screw at his whim. _**{** The heightened thrum of his own pulse and sudden rush of heat and hardness were a reminder that they **both** had their own dark little pieces, neatly interlocking like complex parts of some bizarre engine. **}**_ It would be so wonderfully _easy_ , and who knew what his partner might be convinced to do in this state? The possibilities were... tantalizing.  
  
_**{** No. **}**_  
  
   He halted that train of thought before it could gain further traction; a sudden fire hitting a wall of ice. In this state, no matter what Tony thought or believed he wanted... That he'd even considered it made Doom feel sick and he pushed as gently as he could, holding Anthony just far enough away that he could resist the urge to claim that sharp, spiteful _ **{** ~~warm~~ ~~pink~~ ~~tempting~~ **}**_ mouth. Once he'd caught his breath, he lifted Stark's head and held it, wanting to be sure that he was seen, heard, and entirely understood. The steady sincerity in his eyes and voice should have been more than enough, but right now... who knew?  
  
   "Not this time, Tony. Not like this." There was still a trace of huskiness there, and the name was an oddity on his tongue. Names had power; to correctly name _anything_ was to _acknowledge_ that power. There was no point ever attempting to convey such a natural concept to simplistic, American minds.  
  
   "Nope--changed my mind. Never call me that." Either flinging himself or actually falling into his computer chair, Stark let the momentum swivel him away from whatever look he was probably being given. "Okay, duty done, Lancelot--I'm home safe, no further help needed. Not from you, and not from your damned _eyebrows_."  
  
   Victor hadn't even realized he'd skeptically arched them, but... it was not, he realized, terribly hard to guess.  
  
   "I suppose you'll sleep, then? Alright. Bed, or chair?"  
  
   Swiveling to face him, Tony could express nothing but bewilderment. There had been words, and in English, even, but... "What or...? Sorry, no, just _what_?"  
  
   Arms folded, Von Doom stared him down with the skill of a born parent. "Bed... or... chair. Being the spoiled, entitled brat that you are has earned you a single room, and sleeping arrangements are limited--"  
  
   "Who the fuck invited you to _stay_ , Vic?"  
  
  "I will not leave you in this state."  
  
   They both paused, blinking at each other in brittle silence.  
  
   "Why not?" Tony asked. _**{** The simple confusion in his voice actually **stung**. **}**_  
  
  "Because I choose not to."  
  
  "Yeah--getting that. Not getting the _why_ , though."  
  
   Victor exhaled; not really a sigh, only a brief, steadying breath. "We have a shared compulsion to tug at loose threads and unravel details, Anthony, but not _all_ mysteries yield to endless inquiry."  
  
   Leaning back, Tony studied him drolly. "You know, you could just say 'stop asking.'"  
  
   Victor met his eyes evenly. "Stop asking."  
  
   With the subject firmly closed, he crossed to the small sink and cabinet set, searched briefly, and returned with a glass and two tablets. "Aspirin, and water--" The immediately launched question was silenced with a determined look and a raised palm. " _Drink_." Whether his 'patient' had actually given in and accepted this unexpected care or was just too shocked to offer complaint was an open question. At least--after a head-shake of disbelief--he obeyed.  
  
  Getting him undressed took slightly more effort--shirt and shoes, he could handle himself, but the jeans required an awkward degree of tugging on Victor's part and hip-tilting on Tony's, and somewhere in the midst of it all they ended up pressed tightly together, Doom's broad hands tucked beneath the denim and Stark smirking at him breathlessly. _**{** His skin flushed and there was the familiar twist of **want** , but the temptation was easier to battle this time. **}**_  
  
  "I really like how your mouth does this... thing... that it does."  
  
  One thick brow arched in amusement. "Exists?"  
  
  "Yeah, well, right now it's existing in a really punchable way, but up until then--that too I guess."  
  
  For the first time all evening, Victor gave in to a broad, bright, genuine smile. This was, he realized, the first time they'd been even partially undressed together without the insistence of base drives and needs. The first time it had been anything other than a needful, half-violent stripping of unwanted layers, interspersed with kisses and insults. The first time--but it felt, somehow, natural.  
  
  **{** _the tight, warm flutter at the center of his chest returned; had never really faded; was far more than simple pity_ **}**  
  
  "I'll take the chair." It was meant as a gallant offer, at least in part.  
  
  "Why? We could both fit in the bed--we've done it before."  
  
  His broad shoulders tightened, the warmth spreading to throat and stomach. It wasn't the first time he'd felt it, but it had been so simple to dismiss it, before, as the aftermath of whatever high of adrenaline and testosterone they'd both been riding at the time. Now... that was no longer a factor. He forced a smile and a snort of laughter. "I'd rather you showered first, but--yes. We could."  
  
_**{** He wanted to. **}**_  
  
  Undressing without glancing back to see if Stark watched him do it _**{** odd time to feel modesty, if that was what he felt--normally he **delighted** in that hungry gaze **}**_ Victor left everything in a heap on the chair except his boxers. There should be something between them, just to make his intentions clear, after all. _**{** No. It was a ridiculous attempt at defense; he knew it. **}**_  
  
  Tony seemed to share the combination of conflicting emotions that drove him, settling in against him clumsily after a long, indecipherable look. Whatever it meant, they could sort it out later. For now, he did what came naturally to him, slipping one arm under his _**{** lover's **}**_ neck and curling around him as he'd done so many times before--but this felt more like protection than a determined claiming. This was the difference between ' _I've got you_ ' and ' _You're mine_.' His knuckles stroked Stark's temple, thumbnail skimming the curve of one ear as the feeling in his chest expanded in all directions, filling him like warm honey.  
  
**{** and there it was--the thing he'd been trying to ignore for months **}**  
                **{** which of them was the idiot **now**? **}**  
  
  Once he was sure that Anthony slept, he nuzzled subtly, breathing in the familiar scent that still lingered, under the smell of beer and smoke and perfume. There should have been some fear, he suspected; that was what people described, at least. A giddy uncertainty. An emotion that Victor was apparently incapable of. In its place was the steady unfolding of a plan and the surety that had pulled him along since birth.  
  
  He would tell Tony, yes--but not yet. Not this close to success. The machine, his first significant creation, the thing that would alter the known laws of science _**{** and perhaps more--let him reach her, **save** her **}**_ ...once that prize was his, once Stark's sharp tongue was silenced by awe of what he'd accomplished... _then_ he’d begin the process of... exploring this. Of, he supposed, _courting_ him.  
  
  After the experiment, tomorrow.


End file.
